


all of this silence and patience (pining and anticipation)

by Lysippe



Series: The Worst Witch 2018 Winter Fluff-A-Thon [22]
Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Consent, F/F, Hecate is a top, Pippa is a brat, and, and they're both awfully smug, consent is hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 23:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17171585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysippe/pseuds/Lysippe
Summary: Pippa must have been terribly caught up in her thoughts, she thought later, because she never even noticed Hecate inching closer, never saw her moving in, until their faces were inches apart. Until Hecate was nearly on top of her. Pippa felt her breath catch in her throat.But Hecate, conscientious as always, stopped just short enough that Pippa could feel her breath hot on her cheek, see the way her pupils dilated, flaring with desire. There was a question in her eyes, a request for permission, and Pippa nodded slowly, shakily, mouthing the word ‘yes’ when she couldn’t quite get sound out.





	all of this silence and patience (pining and anticipation)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm finally catching up on posting these. I think I put off posting this one because I knew I had to re-work it a lot, and didn't really have the time or emotional energy to do that in the lead-up to Christmas. But also like, I'm quite fond of this one now, which I didn't expect to be.

Hecate was singularly reluctant to give the hot tub a try, even by her usual standards. Pippa supposed that she should have predicted Hecate’s reaction. That she should have been prepared for Hecate’s all-too-predictable disdain for something so frivolous.

And, more importantly, something that entailed letting go of her modesty to some degree.

It was, in all fairness, a step substantially outside of Hecate’s comfort zone, even in the relative privacy that the darkness afforded them. It was well past nightfall, and only a small handful of the other witches and wizards who were vacationing at the remote mountain resort were still milling about. This late at night, most had returned to their suites to enjoy the night in other, more private ways. For Pippa, this had meant the perfect opportunity for an uninterrupted dip in the hot tub, the brisk winter air be damned.

But for Hecate, who hated the cold almost as much as she hated the exposure that a public hot tub brought, it was a far more unpleasant prospect. 

Pippa had wheedled and bargained and offered all manner of incentives to convince her, but the only thing that had any effect was a resolute promise that if anyone else showed up, for any reason whatsoever, they would leave immediately, no questions asked. And even then, Hecate had agreed with great trepidation.

Honestly, Pippa felt somewhat badly about the whole thing. The feeling amplified when Hecate materialized beside her in a deep blue robe that reached almost to her ankles, looking profoundly uncomfortable. Pippa reached out to gently take Hecate’s arm, giving it a soft squeeze. “It’ll be okay, Hiccup. There’s no one here. Just you and me. We have all the privacy we could want.”

Hecate, to her credit, did a very good job of not saying all the things Pippa knew she was thinking, all the concerns and frustrations she could see lingering behind Hecate’s eyes. Like  _ someone could come by at any moment _ , and  _ this is still a  _ public _ space, even if no one else is in it _ . This was another extension of the intense privacy with which Hecate treated all personal matters. In the same way that she shied away from any sort of public displays of affection, or the discussion of personal feelings or emotions, Hecate had always preferred to keep as much of herself guarded from the world at large as she could.

And as much as Pippa respected that, she had no such preferences. She had always felt most at ease in the open, keeping her deepest secrets to herself, but not much else. Over the years, she had learned to temper the instinct to share herself so fully with the world -- Hecate had been a key contributor to that lesson -- but something as simple as modesty had never been an issue for Pippa. 

Letting go of Hecate’s arm, Pippa slipped her own robe down her shoulders, letting it pool on the ground at her ankles. She flashed a quick, suggestive grin at Hecate, and slid quickly into the water before the cold had a chance to catch up with her. “Come on in, Hiccup,” she said sweetly, hoping to ease the tension somewhat with her own comfort, “the water is simply lovely.”

Hecate muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like  _ ‘I very much doubt that,’ _ but she grudgingly untied the sash to her own robe as well, avoiding Pippa’s gaze as it fell to the ground, before she vanished it.

Pippa wasn’t sure quite what she had been expecting, but she would have been lying if she said that some part of her wasn’t surprised to find that Hecate hadn’t opted for a swimsuit straight out of the nineteenth century. Her plain, high-necked one piece was hardly revealing by any stretch of the imagination, but it was, at least, modern. And, truth be told, though it was far from the first time Pippa had seen Hecate in any state of undress, this particular occasion made her breath catch in her throat, her throat drying up involuntarily. 

There was at most a two-second window between Hecate vanishing her robe and the moment she slipped into the hot tub beside Pippa, grumbling all the while about the cold, but it was more than enough time for Pippa to imprint the memory into her mind, filing it away for future reference. It was, she supposed, a bit silly to be so affected by something as simple as a swimsuit, but that had always been the nature of her relationship with Hecate. Or, to be more accurate, the way Hecate affected her. It had little to do with what Hecate was wearing, or how much of it, and everything to do with the fact that Pippa had always found Hecate breathtaking, no matter the circumstances. And in moments like this one, where Hecate pushed herself out of her comfort zone for the sole purpose of doing something nice for Pippa, Pippa found her quite irresistible.

Hecate, always reluctant when it came to public displays of affection, surprised her by being the first to reach out. She was so rarely the one to initiate physical contact, and the tentativeness with which she laid one hand on Pippa’s thigh under the water made Pippa shudder, her heartbeat picking up rapidly. It occurred to Pippa, briefly, that Hecate could be trying to prove something. That she should tell Hecate that it was okay, that this wasn’t necessary. But when Hecate leaned in, just a little, so that Pippa would be able to hear her, all of those ideas vanished into thin air.

The words were so soft that Pippa almost thought she had imagined them. That the whispered  _ I love you  _ was nothing more than a trick of the wind, or a figment of her imagination. But she knew, the moment she looked into Hecate’s eyes, soft and trepidatious and warmer than Pippa had ever seen them, that it was real. 

Pippa wanted nothing more in that moment than to lean in. To close the gap between them, to tangle her fingers in the dark curls held in a loose bun, and press her lips to Hecate’s, pink and bare of the dramatic dark lipstick she usually wore. But she knew better than to push, better than to test the boundaries of Hecate’s skittishness. Knew that any move towards any sort of intimacy had to be Hecate’s decision from here on out. And she knew how unlikely that was. She had accepted Hecate’s intense personal guardedness long ago. Loved her for it, even. But that did nothing to quell the ache in her heart, the longing prickling in her fingers, to reach out, to touch, to just maintain that connection, and make sure it couldn’t be severed.

Pippa knew that Hecate could feel her reaction, could see the way her cheeks had flushed and her breath was coming in shorter and shorter bursts. And Hecate seemed to be emboldened by it, increasing the pressure on Pippa’s thigh until Pippa could feel long fingernails digging into sensitive skin.

Pippa must have been terribly caught up in her thoughts, she thought later, because she never even noticed Hecate inching closer, never saw her moving in, until their faces were inches apart. Until Hecate was nearly on top of her. Pippa felt her breath catch in her throat.

But Hecate, conscientious as always, stopped just short enough that Pippa could feel her breath hot on her cheek, see the way her pupils dilated, flaring with desire. There was a question in her eyes, a request for permission, and Pippa nodded slowly, shakily, mouthing the word ‘yes’ when she couldn’t quite get sound out.

“Pippa?” Hecate was staring more intently now, still unmoving. Waiting, Pippa knew, for her to speak.

“Hiccup?” she asked, hating how her voice quaked, how she could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. 

Hecate, for her part, looked more than a little smug about Pippa’s reaction. “Yes?” she drawled, in a voice that reminded Pippa eerily of the one she herself had used for so many years, feigning innocence of her actions and her words, and their meanings.

“I thought you found smugness unbecoming in a witch.” It was the first thing that came into Pippa’s mind, and she was pleased to find that she had regained something resembling control of her voice.

“You clearly don’t,” Hecate said mildly, as long fingers reached up out of the water to stroke Pippa’s cheek, snaking down her neck. Pippa gasped as Hecate’s hand found purchase at the base of her skull, weaving into loosely-tied hair and giving a sharp tug. “Unless your entire… aesthetic, is just for show?”

Pippa shook her head, thighs clenching involuntarily at the sudden, unexpected contact. She wondered when, exactly, Hecate had gotten past her insecurity, past her stubborn resistance to public displays of anything. But then, nothing pulled Hecate out of herself quite like the desire to prove a point. She just wasn’t quite sure what that point was, yet. “You know it’s not.” 

“I do,” Hecate said, lowering her mouth to Pippa’s neck, nibbling lightly at her earlobe. “More’s the pity. You wear it well, though.” 

“I know I do.” Pippa tilted her chin up imperiously, as best she could with Hecate still hovering over her.  

“But--” Hecate slid the fingertips of her free hand up Pippa’s thigh, her hip, her ribs. Straight to her breast, where Piippa felt her nipple hardening immediately in response to the feather-light touches. She bit down on the inside of her cheeks to keep from moaning. “You might wear humility better.”

“I--” Pippa gasped out, inhaling sharply as she felt Hecate’s fingers sliding gently under the elastic fabric of her swimsuit, lightning spreading under her skin at the contact. “I’ve been told that before.”

Hecate’s eyebrows shot up, but she schooled her expression quickly back into impassivity. “And how have you found that suggestion?” Long fingers dug deeper into Pippa’s hair, nails pressing into her scalp. 

“Wholly uncompelling, until right now,” Pippa admitted, her breath coming in short, staccato bursts.

“Is that so?”

For all the world, Pippa felt like that was a trick question. Like Hecate was trying to goad her into giving an answer, but she couldn’t quite figure out what it was. And honestly, with Hecate’s fingernails now tracing the inside of Pippa’s thighs, with her lips hot against Pippa’s neck, nipping and sucking just hard enough to hurt, but never enough to leave a mark, Pippa couldn’t bring herself to care.   


“Hecate,” she breathed. “Not that I’m not enjoying every moment of this, because I am. But--” she fell silent as Hecate’s hand in her hair found the clip holding it up, and with one swift movement, spelled it away. 

“But what?” Hecate asked, all too innocent. As though she didn’t know exactly what.

“But  _ why _ ,” Pippa ground out, frustration eding into her voice, whether from Hecate’s evasiveness in their conversation, or the desperation writhing inside her from the fingernails dragging their way slowly across her body, teasing and showing no sign of stopping, she wasn’t quite sure.

“So you are having a good time, then?” 

Pippa really, genuinely thought she was going to scream. “As though you had any doubt.” One long finger slipped under her swimsuit between her thighs. “Hecate,  _ please _ .”

“Just making sure.” Hecate was smiling now -- grinning, more like -- and she stayed her hands, pulled her face away to glance curiously at Pippa. To watch her come undone

“Hecate.  _ Why _ ?” It was no longer a question, but a demand. For satisfaction, for answers. For release.

Hecate took her time responding, long enough that Pippa was about to demand that Hecate either answer the question or keep touching her. But just as she was about to do so, Hecate gave a single, impassive shrug. “I am… proving a point.”

Pippa did groan at that. “ _ And what point would that be? _ ”

A wolfish grin appeared on Hecate face moments before she captured Pippa’s lips with her own, the kiss searing into Pippa’s skin like she had been burned. 

“That some things--” Pippa saw Hecate lift one hand out of the water,  _ felt  _ Hecate’s magic wrapping around her, the beginnings of a transference spell tingling at the tips of her fingers, “are better done in private.”

Hecate, to her credit, waited for Pippa’s nod of assent -- as though she was going to do anything else, at that point -- before finishing the spell. 

And it was later, hours later, in the privacy of their bedroom, burrowed beneath pillowy down blankets the colors of winter sunsets, that Pippa turned to Hecate, loose-limbed and still bathed in the remnants of afterglow, and said, “And you call me smug.”

**Author's Note:**

> Join me on Tumblr @ thebestdressedrebelinhistory


End file.
